Dragon Soul(18)

Both corners of his mouth curled up, but his eyes remained closed. "That  description works for me. And I can't take all of the credit. You did  some of the work. A minuscule amount, granted, because my part was  clearly the most important, but I don't want to be mean with regards to  your contribution."

I wiggled around on him, doing a little Kegel to remind him that he was  still inside of me. His eyes shot open. "Your part may have been the  star of the show, but let's have a word of praise for my girly muscles.  Those babies really worked overtime on you."

He grinned and kneaded my behind. "They did, indeed."

I rolled off him and glanced at the clock with a sigh. "Dammit. I should  go check on Mrs. P, when all I want to do is snuggle and watch you fall  asleep because you're a man, and pillow talk bores you."         

     



 

"How do you know?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. "Perhaps I am the pillow-talkiest man who ever lived."

He had me there. I realized in the post-coital glow that I really had  done it this time-I'd thrown myself at a man whom I knew very little  about.

"Sophea?" He propped himself up on an elbow, his expression concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." I sighed, and sat up. "You merely pointed out that I've gone and done it again."

"Done what again? Had sex? You weren't a virgin, were you? I'm not an expert, but you seemed to know what you were doing-"

"No, not that." I tried to explain, but couldn't find the words. "It's just …  I'm sorry."

"I have a horrible feeling that this is the part of the evening where  you say the words, ‘It's not you, it's me,' and I will end up returning  to my room to sit by myself and wonder what the hell happened."

I looked at him, really looked at him sitting there with his adorable  mussed-up curls, and his chin that I just wanted to bite again, and that  glorious naked chest, and I wondered what on earth I'd done. It wasn't  like me to meet a man and suddenly fall under his spell …  except that's  just what had happened with Jian.

It wasn't like me to want to touch a man I'd just met, and enjoy being  with him, and think long, lengthy thoughts about his mouth, and what I'd  like to do it, and what I'd like it to do to me.

Except with Jian. I'd wanted to kiss him the first day I met him, too.

I was an independent woman, one who didn't need a man in her life to be  happy. Just because I started to squirrel away thoughts with the  intention of sharing them with Rowan didn't mean I was smitten with him.  Women didn't become emotionally attached to men after just a day.

And yet, that's exactly how long it had taken me to want to be with Jian forever.

Oh, dear heaven, I was doing it again-I was falling in love with a man  who was going to sweep me off my feet (in this case, literally)-and then  after a mad whirl of a courtship, he'd leave me alone and grieving and  empty inside again.

"Ack!" I leaped from the bed, and gathering up my pants and shirt, made a dash for the bathroom.

A minute later there was a polite tap at the door. "I'm going to guess  I've made a huge error by assuming you were as into this as I was, and  will take myself away so you don't have to hide in the bathroom to avoid  looking at me."

I opened the door, grabbed his head, and kissed him with everything I had in me.

"Or not," he said when I released him. He looked as confused as I felt. "Would you like to tell me what's going on?"

"If you die in the next day, I'm never going to forgive you," I told him.

He looked like he was thinking about that for a few seconds, then gave  me another of those sexy bows. "Very well. I accept your terms."

I smiled. I just couldn't help myself. "You do make me happy. I'm just …  I  don't have the best luck with men who make me happy. They tend to get  run down in the street."

"I promise I'll look both ways. Do you want me to help you find Mrs. P?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I know where she is."

He nodded and turned to leave. I followed him to the door to the hallway. "Rowan?"

"Yes?" He glanced back at me.

Dammit, I wanted to kiss the quirky corner of his mouth again. And the  rest of it, come to think of it. "Thank you for helping with Mr. Kim and  his buddy. As seriously awesome as my dragon's mate self is, I'm not  sure I could have handled both of them."

He smiled and started to turn away, then suddenly pulled me up against  his chest, bent me backward, and kissed the breath from my lungs. His  tongue did a sinuous dance that had my legs melting from underneath me.  By the time he was done, I was just a giant puddle of desire. He propped  me up against the door, and said, "I think you're much more awesome  than you give yourself credit for. Just don't underestimate Kim and his  ilk. They are more dangerous than you know."

I watched him walk to the doorway that led to the stairs before sliding  down the door to the floor, fanning myself for a minute. "Hoo, boy. I  think you're the one I ought to be worried about."

I ran Mrs. P to earth twenty minutes later, after I had a quick wash and bribed the desk clerk to give me Edvard's room number.

"I want to talk to you in the morning," I told her when I forcibly  removed her from his room, where she was currently doing what she called  the Dance of the Seven Towels. "We have a few things to chat about, not  the least of which is why people have such an interest in your  jewelry."         

     



 

"You're too serious," she told me, humming to herself as she entered her  room. "Why isn't your man here? He should be taking care of you, not  leaving you to fend for yourself."

I smiled a secret smile to myself, wondering if there was any chance in  the world that I'd have a future with Rowan, or if our budding  relationship was doomed from the beginning.

"Now that smile is much more hopeful," she said, closing the door in my face.

I returned to my bed with the memory of Rowan's body beneath mine, and  erotic thoughts fighting with a good dozen or so questions for active  brain time.

It didn't occur to me until hours later that he never answered my question about what he was doing in Mrs. P's room.





Seven




Stepping out of the Cairo airport was like going from a madhouse to a madhouse located in an oven.

I clutched Mrs. P's arm and said under my breath, "Thank god for Akbar One. I couldn't cope with this on my own."

The man in question must have heard me despite the din of taxis, people,  and what seemed like a bazillion cars all crammed into an extremely  small strip of road. "Yes, yes, I take good care of you," Akbar said  with a flash of very white teeth. He was a young man of probably early  twenties, and introduced us when we arrived in Cairo by explaining that  we'd see a lot of Akbars around (and we did-there were at least three  others holding up signs reading Akbar followed by a number), but that he  was the best. "You follow me, I take care of you. Very nice car will  drive you to your hotel. I show you pyramids, yes? You want to see  pyramids?"

"Right now what I want most is a cold shower," I answered, plucking my shirt from where it was stuck to my sweaty self.

"Hotel first, yes, then pyramids," Akbar agreed with an amiable smile,  and continued to force his way through the great herds of people that  swarmed the taxi and pickup zone.

"I wouldn't mind a good stiff drink," a voice said behind me.

I made a face at the owner of the voice. "This is a Muslim country, Rowan."

"That doesn't mean one can't find alcohol," he answered and gestured me before him.

I took a firmer grip on Mrs. P's suitcase handle and plowed forward,  keeping her close to me so she couldn't escape on another one of her  "adventures."

Akbar led us through the throngs, noise, and general sense of chaos to a medium-sized sedan.

"I shall sit up front with the comely young man," Mrs. P said when I  tried to help her into the back of the car. She slipped out of my grip,  and before I could do anything, she scurried into the front seat where  she sat with a defiant glint in her eye.

"I don't think that's really wise-" I started to say, but was  interrupted when a somewhat breathless woman arrived and said, "Oh good,  you got a car. We didn't have time to book one, what with trying to  take out the remainder of demons in Munich before we had to fly out  here."

May, the same small, dark-haired woman who was in the tea shop, brushed  past me and entered the car, followed by Gabriel, the latter giving me a  brief smile before he plopped himself down on the backseat.

I looked first at Rowan, who was busy typing something on his phone,  then into the car. "Uh …  hello again. I hate to be rude, but I don't  think there's enough room for all of us. Mrs. P and I invited Rowan to  ride with us to the Hotel Cleopatra, and this isn't a very big car … " I  let the sentence trail off in obvious significance.